"Not a bit of it. The cow-yard is soft and mucky. They will sink down
in it, and the men can lead them out. Come on, Vincent, help me open
the doors." Bert's plan was now evident, and it seemed feasible. But
would the frightened horses leap to safety?

Running up from the stairway, in which they had crouched when the
horses thundered past, the two boys hurried across the barn to the big
doors. Constable Stickler called out:

"I'll go and send some men around to the cowyard."

"All right," replied Bert.

He and Vincent were almost at the doors when, once more, the horses
came at them with a rush. The boys were in great peril, but Bert saw
their chance of safety.

"Jump up on the mowing machine!" he yelled, and he and his chum
crawled upon the apparatus just in time. So close were the horses that
one of them stumbled over the extended tongue of the machine, and
fell. It got up in an instant, however, and joined its companions,
that stood trembling in a corner, staring with terrified eyes at the
flames that were eating closer and closer. The barn floor was smaller
than it had been, for the fire was consuming it, foot by foot.

"Come on, now!" cried Bert, and a moment later he had thrown aside the
heavy bar that held the doors in place, and had swung them open. The
draft, created by the fire, served to hold them so.

"Now help me drive the horses out," he called to Vincent. "Get behind